


Nepal

by glitteredsins, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Antony Starr and Stephen Amell [99]
Category: Actor RPF, Arrow (TV 2012) RPF, Banshee (TV) RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), New Zealand Actor RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 14:03:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14106963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteredsins/pseuds/glitteredsins, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica





	Nepal

  
**players only. backdated to late December 2013, after[Christmas spent at home](https://antony-starr.dreamwidth.org/13104.html).**

_warnings: some verbal humiliation later in the log_

"So, your plane?" Antony says with a grin as they wait in line to check into their hotel in Kathmandu. "Best purchase _ever_. At least as far as I'm concerned." Seventeen hours in the air and he feels as refreshed and well-rested as if he'd slept in his own home. Not to mention being able to touch Stephen without hesitation. Fucking brilliant.

"My plane," Stephen smirks, "is indeed the best present in the history of presents." After such a long flight Stephen would normally be tired, irritated and less than fresh, not this time, oh no, he's well rested, he's been very thoroughly inducted into the Mile High Club and they even had a shower and changed into fresh clothes before exiting the plane. All in all pretty fucking perfect.

The line moves quickly, Antony checking them in under his name, keys handed over. It's not Citadel-owned but club-recommended, the owner and his wife members. Nepalese themselves, they've decorated the place along the lines of the palace and royal suites of the 14th century Malla kings of Nepal. Antony loves it. Beats a fucking Hyatt any day. "This is awesome," he says as they walk through the lobby towards the lifts. "Should we drop our stuff off and go find something to eat?" They could eat in the hotel, but Antony's itching to get out on the street, do some exploring already.

"Hell yes!" It's one of the many things Stephen loves about their travelling, getting out to eat local food. He hikes his bag up on his shoulder and follows a step behind Antony, not for any protocol reason, but because he's too busy looking around and taking it all in.

"Just remember," Antony says as they get on. "Only bottled water while we're here, even for brushing your teeth. Same in Goa." They've got a whole vial of Cipro with them just in case but Christ that would be a nasty way to spend the second half of their honeymoon.

"Yes Sir," Stephen nods, leaning back against the elevator wall. He smiles over at his husband. "Love you," he murmurs softly.

"Love you too," Antony murmurs back, eyes crinkling. "I'm really happy to be here but I'm glad we spent Christmas at home."

"Me too, it was perfect." And it was, it had been full of some very special memories. "Couple more weeks of this, then it's back to real life huh?"

Antony sighs. "Marcus'll be happy to have me back," he says, pushing off the wall as the lift dings.

"And you?" Stephen eyes Antony as they step out and saunter down the hallway. "Do you want to go back to work?" Cos it sure as hell didn't sound like it from the way Antony just phrased that.

"I do," Antony nods, locating their room and unlocking the door. "And I'll be good when I'm there. But this is the first real break I've had in a long time, serious down time, and I haven't missed work." He steps inside, dropping his bag by the door. "Usually on shorter trips, I'm still thinking about what I have to do when I get back, the next job, the one after that... I love my work but I've really enjoyed being away from it too."

Stephen decides to keep his mouth shut on the subject, instead he busies himself in setting his bag down and having a quick check out of their room, pausing by the windows to check out the view.

"I forgot it had a pool," Antony says, coming up behind Stephen. He wraps his arms around his husband and kisses the back of his neck. "Up for a midnight swim?" he grins.

"Sure," Stephen tips his head forward a little, baring more skin to Antony's mouth. "Gotta behave though right?"

Fuck. "Yes," Antony responds, but the word's laced with reluctance.

"It won't hurt you to behave," Stephen teases. "It'll make Goa all the sweeter when we get there," he lays his hand over where Antony's arms are crossed over his waist.

"Keep reminding me about Goa," Antony murmurs, grinding lightly against Stephen's ass, "and I might not be able to behave." _Mostly_ teasing.

"Yes you will," Stephen snorts, reaching back to slap at Antony's hip. "Mr Control Freak."

Antony laughs and kisses Stephen's neck again. "We'd better get out of here then. Take my mind off all the filthy things I want to do to you," he says, taking his husband's hand and pulling him towards the door.

"Can I at least take a piss first?" Stephen resists that pull, laughter of his own warning his voice. "And you can grab your camera."

"A piss? Fine. If you have to," Antony says, dragging out the words, clearly teasing and unable to stop from laughing as he gives Stephen a kiss and lets him go, moving away to unpack his new camera.

Stephen's finally mastered the art of pissing with his PA ring in. It took a few attempts, but he's finally got it cracked. He's back, hands washed minutes later. "C'mon then, let's go explore," he taps his foot in mock impatience.

Outside, it's late afternoon, the last of the sun slowly disappearing over the horizon. The streets are crammed with people, vehicles and more than a few cows. Almost immediately they're surrounded by kids begging for money but Antony waves them off. "You can't give them anything or they'll never leave you alone."

Shoving his hands into his jacket pockets, Stephen keeps close to Antony. He nods his understanding, but can't help feel the pull when he looks at one of the children, a small girl, all dark eyed and solemn, he feels the pull, the need to scoop her up and save her from all this. Something he knows he can't do, something he knows is an instinctive response. He blows out a breath and turns his attention elsewhere, his senses assailed by new smells, sights and sounds.

"Crazy, isn't it?" Antony says, nodding at the cows and the motorbikes with whole families on the back.

"Just a little," Stephen agrees. All of their travelling so far has been to places he could identify with on some pretty common levels, this? This is exotic in its strangeness, it's both unsettling and fascinating all at once.

"Marcus recommended a place to eat a couple blocks from here," Antony says, keeping Stephen on the inside as they walk, "but if you see somewhere you'd rather go, let me know."

"No, no, that's fine." Stephen's all eyes, taking in the bustle around them, he spies some monkeys scampering around on the roof tops of some of the buildings, nudges Antony with his elbow to indicate a lone, bleating goat also peering down from its lofty, tethered vantage point.

Antony laughs, watching the goat for a moment. "I wonder if the monkeys ever bother the goats," he muses. "You know they're considered holy?"

"The goats or the monkeys?" Stephen turns his gaze on his husband, he loves how Antony looks when he's laughing, his eyes all crinkled up at the sides, his beautiful light blue eyes dancing. It makes his belly tighten, his heart squeeze.

"The monkeys." Antony grins at Stephen. "We could go visit the monkey temple tomorrow. It's supposed to be really cool. Except for the 365 steps up to it." His grin widens.

"Pah! Is that all? With what we've got planned that's just a warm up," Stephen snorts playfully, not at all intimidated. "Yeah, let's go, it'll be fun."

"Just don't be touching the monkeys," Antony warns, mostly teasing. "We didn't get our rabies vaccinations."

"Why would I want to touch the monkeys?" Stephen looks bemused at the idea. "I don't generally go around petting random animals, even at home."

"Me neither, but I've seen all sorts of pictures of people feeding and trying to pet them," Antony says, stopping in front of the gates to a smaller local temple. "You want to go in?" he asks, nodding towards the courtyard.

"Yeah why not?" Stephen nods, already peering in.

Antony takes a couple discreet photos, checking out the offerings left in front of the various statues. "That one's supposed to be for fertility," he says, pointing out one arrangement. "I think the other's for luck and prosperity."

"How do you know that?" Stephen casts Antony a speculative gaze as they move through the temple complex, he's always bemused at how Antony just seems to 'know' stuff, like his lover is a sponge who soaks up everything he's ever seen or read.

"I went through a phase where I was really interested in reading about all the different religions," Antony says with a small shrug. "It's mostly Hindu and Buddhism here."

"And did any of them strike a chord with you?" Stephen moves away a little to peer more closely at a smaller shrine, half his attention still on Antony.

"Out of everything? Bahá'í but I consider myself agnostic," Antony says, slipping off his shoes in front of the main temple. "I believe there's something out there but I don't really like the idea of organized religion."

This is news to Stephen, he moves back to his lover and toes off his own shoes, following Antony inside. "So tell me more about this... Ba.. Bahá'í?" he murmurs softly, voice lowered out of respect.

"Basically the Bahá'í believe there's only one God," Antony explains just as softly, moving slowly around the outskirts of the room, the centre filled with worshippers, "and that all religions, regardless of what they call him, her or it, are worshipping the same god, the same spiritual source. They believe in equality for all, freedom from prejudice, that there's harmony to be had between religion and science..." He pauses, giving Stephen a smile. "And they believe we're supposed to work towards a peaceful prosperous society and through doing that, we come to know God."

When Antony stops moving, Stephen closes in, his fingers brushing against those of his husband, he leans in. "I like the sound of that," he murmurs. "Can you tell me more later?" Because right now, is not the best time or place.

"Sure," Antony nods, a small smile curving his lips at that surreptitious touch. It's strange. There's obviously stuff they haven't talked about but they've hit a lot of big issues: kids, money, work... but religion's not come up before. Not even when they got married since they defaulted to using his parent's minister. "Each neighbourhood has its own temple like this," he says, relishing that closeness for another moment before moving on. "And you'll see small shrines in front of a lot of houses, ancestor ones inside."

They spend some time inside the temple, absorbing the atmosphere, appreciating the beauty laid out before quietly moving back out into the daylight and the main street. "So, food?" Stephen looks hopeful as he side steps a small child in the street.

"Another block up," Antony says, gesturing in that direction and nudging Stephen to the inside again as they walk. "Did you go to church as a kid?"

"No, my parents aren't religious really, nothing more than weddings, funerals, the odd Christmas thing if we were staying with family elsewhere," Stephen shakes his head, his hands back in his pockets. "It's not something I ever gave much thought to, but then when I see things like that... I do wonder, what it'd be like to have faith, to have that certainty,"

Antony nods. "Religion causes a lot of misery in the world," he says. "The opiate of the masses," he quotes. "It convinces far too many people to be happy with their lot on earth because they're going to enter some kingdom on the other side. _But_ ," he adds, aware of his own bitterness on the subject, "humans want to believe in something larger than ourselves, that someone's watching out for us. It's not all bad. And that's what I like about Bahá'í. It's all the best aspects." He pauses mid-step, checking a name above a door. "This is it," the door pulled open for Stephen.

Clearly Antony has some firm ideas about religion, but Stephen doesn't push it right now, he's too busy taking in the inside of the building they've stepped into, it's warm, a small fire dances away, taking the chill from the air.

"Namaste." Antony nods as an older man comes out from the back to greet them. "Dui," he says, holding up two fingers and following the man as he leads them to a table near the fireplace. "Dhanybhad." They get menus and glasses of water delivered to the table but Antony gives a small shake of his head at the water to Stephen. "Dui Everest," he tells their server with a smile.

Stephen arches his brow at his husband. "Another language?" he teases softly. "You do know you make me feel like some dumb hick every time you do that," he shakes his head. "And remind me one more time, how much I still don't know about you," he adds a little more softly, as if he's talking to himself.

"Hey," Antony says with a quick brush of his fingers across the back of Stephen's hand. "Only a few phrases," he says. "Learned because we were coming here. I swear, I'm lost past 'sauchalaya kata chha' which means where is the toilet?"

There's laughter at that, but even so, Stephen gives a barely there shrug indicating he's not entirely convinced Antony isn't playing down his capabilities. "What other... precautions have you taken?" he asks, leaning in, chin set in his palm. "Apart from making sure we can piss?"

"What do you mean?" Antony asks, opening the menu.

"You were clearly keeping me to one side out there, you're... hyper aware," Stephen pauses, wonders at the wisdom of his next question, but still. "Are you carrying?"

"I was keeping you on the inside because of the moto thieves. They have them in Vietnam as well and I've seen people get badly hurt," Antony says, grateful when the server brings their beer. He takes a sip, buying himself a few seconds for the other answer. "I've got a knife on me, but that's it." Which is true enough. It just doesn't account for the guns on the security detail they have following them.

Stephen looks down at his beer for a moment, his thumb rubbing the glass, he doesn't look up when he says. "Is it odd that is exactly what I thought you'd say?" Meaning the knife, though he's also wondering when Antony put it on, and where it is. And what else was stashed in his beautiful new wedding plane.

"Does it bother you?" Antony asks, watching Stephen. Trying to figure out where his husband's head is at.

Taking a drink of his beer, Stephen gives himself a moment to think about his reply. "It bothers me that that is what I assumed, and that I was right, more so than you're actually carrying something." He glances up. "We don't talk about this, I know, and I know that's my choice, but I'm clearly starting to assume things here."

"The thing is, apart from the other aspects of my work, you know I do security, you know I have a license to carry and to carry concealed," Antony says. "And I didn't bring a gun. I brought a knife because as beautiful as this country is, there are bad guys out there, and I don't like leaving myself open to them. 99.9% of the time I'll never have to use a weapon and I go out of my way not to but I also won't be a sitting duck - and I won't let you get hurt when I could stop someone from hurting you."

"Marcus said you have an air about you, and he was right, a 'don't-fuck-with-me-I'm-dangerous' vibe, looking back I think that was part of what attracted me to you that first night, that innate sense of self assurance you have, I've never met anyone else like that. I just didn't know what it was, or where it came from, not then," Stephen licks over his lower lip. "My husband, the ex soldier, the hard man, the mercenary." And there it is, the word he'd never been able to say until now.

Antony doesn't deny it. It's still not all of it but it's more than they've admitted before this. He takes a long drink of his beer, waving the server away when he nears the table. "Is there a question in there? Something you want to ask me?"

Stephen takes a long slow breath in, he pulls himself away from where he was leaning in, instead he slumps back in his seat his gaze lowered, locked on where his thumb does a brushing motion, back and forth. There was no denial, not that he really expected one, Antony is at least always honest with him when a subject is put directly between them. "No," he shakes his head. "No question."

Antony waves the server back and hands over their menus, ordering two of the dinner special. Once the man's out of earshot, he leans in, hands clasped, his heart aching at how fucking miserable his husband looks. "I don't know what to say," he says quietly. "I don't know how to make you feel better without getting into more of the things you don't want to hear."

"You're not going to make me feel better, it's not your job to. You've given me the chance to ask, you've been honest with me when I have, it's on me Tony, these are my choices and I'll live with the consequences of knowing or not knowing these things." He looks up now to meet Antony's gaze. "It's okay, really."

Fuck. It doesn't feel okay and Antony wonders how they got from being so happy just a short while ago to this. "I ordered your dinner," he points out finally, hoping Stephen's okay with that.

Stephen ignores that redirection, he can see Antony is concerned, unsettled, just as he is. "Tony..." When his husband meets his eyes he gives him a small smile. "I have known and served plenty of dominants, they all said that they take care of and protect their submissives, I have only met one man who I know can really do that, on every level, in every way that matters, and that is you."

"I would protect you with my life," Antony says softly, nodding, grateful for the words, for the positive spin on what he is, what he can do. Knowing that the corollary is he'd kill anyone who hurt Stephen.

"It's a trite statement isn't it?" Stephen tips his head a little. "Except when you say it."

Antony nods. "You're my everything," he says simply.

"I believe you, and that's why I married you, why I can deal with this." He slides his foot out under the table and rubs his booted foot along side Antony's. What Stephen doesn't acknowledge, even to himself, is he finds it attractive, he finds it hot that his husband _would_ hurt people to protect him.

Relief washes over Antony at hearing that, at knowing Stephen's not having second thoughts or regrets. He touches the back of Stephen's hand again, wishing he could do more. "When did Marcus say I had an air about me?"

There's laughter at that, Stephen wondered how long it would take Antony to ask. "At our rehearsal dinner." He doesn't supply any more information than that, quite deliberately, to see if that will satisfy his ever curious husband.

"In what context?" Antony asks. "How'd it come up?"

"Am I to have no secrets?" Now he's teasing, his blue eyes alight with amusement. "It came up when he was telling me about how you guys met, okay?"

"Okay. I was just curious," Antony says, grinning as he takes another drink.

"Nosey you mean?" Stephen counters, with a raised brow.

"Maybe, but he's my right hand," Antony points out. "It's important I know he's... being discreet."

"Discreet? You mean not telling me anything you don't think I want to hear?" The another brow goes up now.

"Yes," Antony says bluntly. "If anyone's going to tell you about that stuff, I want it to be me."

Whilst Stephen appreciates what his husband is saying, it also feels a lot like he's being told to not speak to Marcus alone, and that? That doesn't sit right at all. "Fine, I won't speak to him, unless you're present."

"That's not what I meant," Antony says. Fuck. "You're welcome to talk to him. But there was a lot of liquor flowing at that dinner and he doesn't usually drink."

"And he didn't tell me anything provocative, nothing that made me uncomfortable, nothing you wouldn't have been okay with," Stephen shakes his head. "I think you're underestimating him, for fuck sake Tony, he wouldn't be your right hand if he was indiscreet, all he did was tell me how you guys met and how much you mean to him."

"And that's fine," Antony says, an edge to his voice that wasn't there before. "I just asked."

He hears it, how can he not, Stephen knows this man better than anyone. His belly tightens and rolls unpleasantly and he slumps back in his seat, chin down, hands pulled back into his lap. There is always a risk when they dance around this subject, more often than not they both walk away at ease with each other, not so today.

Antony blows out a breath, turning his gaze to the front of the restaurant for a moment. Thinking through how they got here. "Look," he says softly, leaning forward. "There's never been a you. Never been a woman or a man who's been anywhere near what we do. There hasn't been anyone for him to talk to about me and I was just curious what he'd said. I didn't mean for you to think I didn't trust him or you. You're the only people in my life I trust implicitly."

Stephen chews on his bottom lip, his eyes still lowered. Antony's words placate him, but he can't shake the feeling Antony is going to be jumpy every time he and Marcus talk. "It's okay," he says, giving a little shrug. "I get that. But you should know.. he needs you almost as much as I do."

"You think so?" Antony asks, not because he doubts it but because he wants to hear Stephen's thoughts, his opinion.

"Yes, of course," Stephen looks up at that. "You and he are two sides to a coin when you're working, can you imagine not having him around?"

"No," Antony says simply, shaking his head. "I can't. I wouldn't trust anyone else to have my back the way he does."

"And he feels the same about you, you're his linchpin," Stephen picks up his forgotten beer. "He gives you what I can't, and vice versa."

Antony nods. "Good thing because I can't imagine getting from him what I get from you," he says with a grin, eyes crinkling, unable to resist.

The journey of beer to mouth is soon aborted in the face of Stephen's face wrinkling up in disgust. "Ew! Thanks for that image."

Antony laughs. "I love you," he murmurs, sitting up a little as their dinner arrives.

"Good," Stephen smiles back, his eyes on the food, he leans in to sniff at it in appreciation. "How do I say 'thank you'?"

"Dhanybhad," Antony supplies, repeating it more slowly a second time.

Taking a moment to play the sound over in his head, Stephen looks up at their server and smiles, "Dhanybhad."

Their server smiles back. He bows his head and says, in halting English, "Please enjoy your meal."

Antony grins at that, watching the old man disappear back into the kitchen. "We're so spoiled as English speakers," he says, picking up his fork.

******************

Stephen pushes the door shut behind him, his eyes on Antony as his lover moves into the room, his jacket already being shucked down his arms. They'd managed to get through dinner without a return to the tension of their earlier discussion, and for that Stephen is thankful. Even so, he's still a little unsettled. It's rare for Antony to use _that_ tone of voice with him, so much so he can count it on one hand and have fingers left.

"We don't have to be up too early tomorrow," Antony says, tossing his jacket over the back of one of the chairs. "Next day'll be crazy early so we might as well sleep in while we can."

"Okay." His own jacket set aside, Stephen bends to unlace his boots, toeing them off and putting them neatly by the door. "Do you want anything?" he asks, glancing up. "Drink?"

"Please," Antony nods, knowing he doesn't have to elaborate. Stephen knows what he likes. He settles on the couch, feet thrown up on the large ottoman.

Stephen silently makes his way to the mini bar, selecting scotch to pour for his husband, he doesn't bother with one for himself, so he pads over to offering Antony the glass.

"Thanks," Antony murmurs, taking the glass and setting his arm on the back of the couch so Stephen can settle in beside him. "What do you think of Nepal so far?"

"I like it, at the risk of sounding horribly western, it's exotic," Stephen takes his spot beside his lover, aware of a moment of hesitation on his part. "Italy, New Zealand were still familiar, this... this is different on so many levels."

Antony nods, letting his fingers rub over Stephen's shoulder. "I liked the night market. I've been to the one on Bangkok but it's very different. And dinner was really good. I'll have to let Marcus know his recommendation panned out."

"Tony..." Stephen takes a breath. "Earlier... we're okay yeah? I know I pissed you off, but we're good now?" It's no good, he needs the reassurance, part of him aware that some of his insecurity is being fed from his recent emotional upheaval, all the fall out after their big scene.

"Yeah, we're good," Antony assures him. "It was just a momentary thing and I promise, I'm okay with you and Marcus talking. I really liked that you invited him for dinner when we're home again."

Even so, there's the confirmation that he did indeed drive his husband to 'that' point, Stephen pushes down the discomfort, squashing it until he can all but ignore it, he makes a conscious effort to relax against Antony and he smiles. "I want to know him better, after all, he has the back of the most important person in my life when you're working."

"What about you?" Antony asks, leaning in to press a kiss to the side of Stephen's jaw. "Is there anyone in your life I should know better? Anyone from work or...?"

Stephen shakes his head, "No, I've always been a bit solitary, I mean I'm good friends with people I work with, David, Katie, Colt, Emily and I hang out with them more when you're away, we do dinner sometimes, bowling, but...I like keeping things separate at the moment," he pauses, "I'd like to get to know Ian better, Ian and Joe, I like them, I like how... overt Ian is when he's around us, that wasn't quite the same guy I met on the Vampire Diaries set."

"Yeah? What was he like there?" Antony asks, liking the idea of the four of them getting together more.

Casting his mind back Stephen recalls his interactions both on and off set. "Off set? He was... sharp, hard around the edges, not overly warm unless he turned on his not inconsiderable charm, and he only did that when he wanted something."

Antony chuckles. "He said he didn't have any idea you were gay."

"I don't go around handing cards out you know," Stephen snorts. "Yeah he wasn't the nicest person to be around I think, he seemed... sad."

Antony nods. "That would've been about the time he lost his partner. His sir."

Stephen pulls away at that, looking at his husband. "He had a Sir? Ian was submissive?" And that news doesn't sit with the Ian he knows now, he understands Ian sees Antony for pain, but being masochist doesn't necessarily make you submissive. "I didn't know, how did he lose him?"

"Cancer. They were together for almost four years."

"I didn't know," Stephen settles back against Antony, trying to understand how Ian must've felt, and failing, just the thought of losing his husband makes him feel sick. "That explains a few things," he murmurs, "I can't even imagine....and now, now he has Joe."

Antony nods. "It took him a while to get okay with that," he says. "With letting someone new into his life."

"Yeah, I guess so," Stephen presses in closer, all his earlier upset dissipated, he replays the time he's spent with Ian, before and more recently, this new information putting a whole new light on his behaviour. "I still can't get my head around the fact he had a Sir," tipping his face up he looks at Antony and asks, "He doesn't kneel for you, does he?"

"No," Antony shakes his head. "He's not looking for another sir."

"No, I guess not." He'd seen how Ian and Joe were with each other, Ian had clearly changed in the face of his grief, but Stephen can't contemplate anything that would make him turn from submissive to dominant.

"I think he'd still view it as a betrayal," Antony says, watching Stephen. "He's moved forward with Joe and he's accepted having me in his life but beyond that? I think it'll take a lot longer."

"You know that part of him, do you think it's something he still needs?" Stephen is as interested in the notion of putting aside your innate persuasion as he is about Ian.

Antony nods. "Doesn't mean he's going to let himself have it though."

"And if he did... would that be you?" Stephen's question is easy enough, he's comfortable in his relationship with Antony to not feel threatened.

"I don't know that he'd want it to be," Antony says after a moment. "And you wouldn't want that, would you?" Given that Stephen's asked him to limit himself to women aside from Ian, he can't imagine his husband being okay with it.

"Honestly? I don't know. Certainly my initial reaction to the idea isn't 'hell no', if he was single, it might be different. But it's theoretical anyway."

"Yeah, it is," Antony says, pulling Stephen in closer. "And it's not something I'd ever seek. I have my boy, my slave, my husband. I am as fucking happy as any person could possibly be and I'm not looking for anything more."

_Slave._ There it is again. Mentioned so casually. Turning his face up into the underside of Antony's chin, Stephen presses a kiss to the stubbled skin. "I know darling man, I like to think I keep you busy enough," he smiles.

Antony nods. "You keep me very, very busy," he murmurs, smiling, shifting his body towards Stephen, a hand sliding up the inside of his thigh.

"Hmm I do, huh?" Stephen rumbles back, his body going pliant beneath Antony's attention.

" _Very_ ," Antony murmurs again, words muffled in the skin of Stephen's throat as he licks and bites at a spot just above his collar, hand cupping his boy through his jeans.

Stephen's response is instinctive and instant. His cock fills beneath that knowing hand, his eyes closing at the bite, it's right where Antony always aims, as if his Sir is trying to taste collar and skin all at once. His own hands slide along Antony's back, pulling up his top. "Please," he pleads softly.

Fuck. Antony loves the sound of that. He lifts his head, claiming Stephen's mouth, fingers working his zipper open, his cock out, wrapping around that hardened length and stroking roughly.

Not quite what Stephen expected, but he's not about to complain, even if he could. He kisses back just as hard, his tongue sliding along Antony's tasting, groaning his pleasure into Antony's mouth as his dick jerks in his lover's hand.

Matching that groan, Antony works Stephen's cock, feeling his boy getting closer and closer.

In no time at all Stephen finds himself teetering on the edge of orgasm, but Antony is still kissing him, and he doesn't have explicit permission, he pushes against his Sir's shoulder, trying to break that mouth to mouth contact so he can beg to hear the word 'yes'.

"You want something?" Antony murmurs, drawing back and slowing his hand a fraction but nothing more.

"Permission," Stephen pants out, his pupils blown wide, his lips slick with kisses.

Antony shakes his head, letting go of Stephen's cock. "Not yet, boy."

A growl of frustration escapes Stephen's throat before he can stop it, he grits his teeth consciously willing away the almost irresistible urge to cum, Antony had pushed him right to the precipice so much so for a moment Stephen's not even sure he won't fall over it anyway.

Antony watches intently, his arousal only increasing at denying his boy permission. At his clear desperation. He waits until he's certain Stephen's pulled himself back. "I want you on the floor. On your knees, boy."

It doesn't take much, Stephen slides to the floor beside the couch, down, onto his knees, back straight, posture perfect, palms up, his face flushed and defiant even as his cock bobs obscenely from his jeans, its colour dark, the tip leaking sticky precum from the tip.

Rising to his feet, Antony pulls his shirt over his head and drops his jeans to the floor, kicking them aside, his cock jutting hard and thick.

It's right there, inches from his face, that impressive cock he's come to love so much. Stephen doesn't move though, as much as he might want to lean in and open his mouth, he's not been directed to, so, despite the aching in his own balls, and the watering of his own mouth in anticipation, Stephen stays perfectly still.

"You want this, boy?" Antony says, wrapping his hand around his cock.

"Yes Sir," Stephen's gaze flicks up for a moment before returning to the watch a bead of precum ease from the slit.

"You want it shoved down your throat?" Antony says, his smile wicked as he leans forward, smearing that precome across his boy's lips.

Stephen makes a soft whining noise, when he speaks, his lips brush over the slick skin of the head of Antony's cock. "If boy had a choice? Boy would have it shoved up Sir's cunt."

"Is that right?" Antony drawls, still painting Stephen's mouth with his precome. "You need that, boy? You need to be fucked open?"

He can taste it, his nose is full of the heavy scent of his Sir's sex, but Stephen holds out. "Yes Sir, like the fuck pig he is."

"I want to hear how badly you need it," Antony says, slowly stroking his cock, a low groan spilling from his lips. " _Beg_ , boy."

And beg Stephen does.

"Please Sir, please use your boy's cunt, fuck him, use him, he is your fuck toy, your cum dump, boy's cunt is aching to be fucked and used for Sir's pleasure." Each word is weighted with so much need there can be no doubt as to the depth of Stephen's craving.

Fuck yes. Antony's cock gives a rough throb and he nods. "Brace yourself against the end of the bed, boy," already moving away to find a packet of lube.

Stephen divests himself of his clothing on the way, he bends, hands curled around the wooden cross bar that makes up the baseboard of the bed and tilts his ass out.

"Such a needy fucking pig," Antony murmurs, moving behind Stephen, his fingers slicked, two pushed into his boy.

Those words, _that_ tone do wicked things to Stephen, his cock jerks hard and his skin flushes. "Boy is Sir's fuck pig, boy will debase himself only for Sir," Stephen whines as Antony's fingers slip inside his tight heat.

"Damn right he will," Antony says, his cock aching to be buried in his boy's cunt. But he works his fingers in and out, a third added, all three curled to rub over Stephen's prostate. "I'm going to breed this cunt, boy. I'm going to fill it so fucking full and you're gonna spend the night with my cum leaking from you..."

"Please!" Stephen's fingers tighten on the wooden bar, the remains of his denied orgasm are still there, Antony's fingers reigniting the sparks with ease. "Fuck boy, fuck Stephen, he craves you Sir, he craves your cum."

Christ. Antony pulls his fingers free and grasps his cock, lining the head up with his boy's hole and pushing in, slowly, the tight heat making him groan.

Stephen doesn't want slow, in an uncharacteristically greedy move, Stephen pushes back, taking all of Antony in one go, despite the preparation it hurts, and the pain lights him up, a sweet counterpoint to his pleasure, he keens out a soft noise, his head dropping down between his shoulders, his breath coming in short, sharp pants.

Antony hisses in a breath, pleasure washing over him, and he grips Stephen's hips, hard, holding him where he is. "Greedy little bitch," he murmurs, cock throbbing, making sure he's got every last fraction of an inch.

Humming out a noise of assent, Stephen clenches down around the impossibly hard length of Sir's erection. "Fuck _me_ hard," he grinds out, his asshole is tingling with need, all he can think about is Sir pounding his ass, reaming him out.

"Is that a demand, boy?" Antony growls, keeping Stephen right where he is, refusing to move, denying them both.

Stephen whimpers at that, his cock bobs and a bead of precum spills from the tip, leaving a string of clear liquid hanging lose. "Please...I..boy...needs it so much... it hurts, it hurts in wanting..." his words spill out, desperate and disjointed.

Satisfied, his cock harder than ever in the face of his boy's pleas, Antony eases his grip on Stephen and pulls back, slamming in as hard as he can. And again. Holding nothing back.

He asked for it, begged for it, even so Antony is holding _nothing_ back, so hard Stephen's breath is punched from his body with each thrust, rocking him forward onto the balls of his feet.

"Nothing but a dirty fuck pig," Antony grits out, driving deep again and again. "Made to be bred, fucked open, fucking cunt wrecked..."

Dirty, nasty words, hissed out at him, but to Stephen they are as sweet as anything Antony says to him. He rides back against each thrust, wet slicks his ass, and he's not sure it isn't blood.

Another dozen thrusts and Antony's done for. He comes with a shout, not caring who hears them, hips pumping as he empties his seed - every last drop - into his boy's ass.

Breathless, his skin heated, Stephen stills when Antony does, he can feel the _throb, throb_ of Antony's dick buried deep inside him. His hips ache and he feels a little unsteady on his feet. "Sir..."

"Yes, boy?" Antony runs his hands over Stephen's flanks.

"Thank you." It was what Stephen needed, to be used, to be left with his body aching from Antony's use of him.

"It was my pleasure," Antony says with a smile, reaching under Stephen to wrap his fingers around his boy's barely hard cock. "You still want to come?"

A hitched breath then a soft, desperate, "Yes, please please Sir." Stephen curls his fingers back around the bed frame, braces himself and concentrates on his own pleasure instead of his Sir's.

Antony strokes steadily, working Stephen quickly back to full hardness, his fingers playing gently over the metal ring at the tip, the piercing still healing.

"Fuck!" The hint of pain from his piercing along with the touch of his Sir's wickedly knowing hand have Stephen on edge in moments, precum spills copiously from the tip and he hisses out a panicked, "Please, Sir, permission?"

"You've got it," Antony responds with a grin, loving that he can put his boy there that fucking fast.

It takes one, two more strokes and on the third Stephen is keening out his pleasure in a strangled noise, his entire body shuddering with the force of his orgasm. His knees weaken and he staggers.

Antony wraps an arm around Stephen, pulling him upright and helps him around the side of the bed. Covers pushed back, his boy set under them, he stretches out beside him, pulling Stephen in close. "Good boy," he murmurs, kissing him softly.

Stephen lies there, dazed and deliciously spaced, he lets himself wallow in his head space, Sir's fingers and kisses soothing and grounding him.

"Sleep if you want," Antony murmurs. "We don't have to be up too early tomorrow." The next day's a different story, with the start of their hike, but tomorrow they can do whatever they want. Whenever they want.


End file.
